


some oak, some pine, and a handful of norsemen

by Acavall



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: I mean, IKEA, M/M, fluff fluff fluff, not in a sexual way but also, seungcheol ends up handcuffed to a bed in ikea, side jisol and very brief mention of meanie, this is just fluff, with essence of bondage, yeah i love ikea fic ok sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acavall/pseuds/Acavall
Summary: Jeonghan finds that IKEA is full of surprises, in the absolute most literal sense.





	some oak, some pine, and a handful of norsemen

Jeonghan’s not sure, but he might be watching a relationship end.

Of course, he’s seen couples having fights a million times, because buying couches seems to bring that out in people. It’s why furniture shopping is such a relationship milestone - if a couple can’t negotiate on a chair that is mutually acceptable, then frankly their time together is going to be limited. Or miserable. Probably both.

Well, that’s his theory, anyway. Jeonghan’s never actually been furniture shopping with anyone in a romantic capacity before.

But this might be its proving, this couple here. The girl is actually throwing display cushions at her boyfriend, who is fending them off somewhat poorly but managing to look defiant still.

“See?” he’s shouting as a hot pink sequined pillow smacks into his forehead. “No one uses cushions for sitting!”

“That’s because they’re decorative!” his girlfriend hisses, reaching behind her for another piece of ammunition and coming up empty.

Jeonghan sighs. He should probably intervene before they break something, but it’s been a long day and he needs to find his entertainment somewhere.

“It’s a waste of money, Nayeon!” the guy yells, and Nayeon just throws up her hands and storms from the little display room. Of course, it’s not an actual room and there aren’t any walls to disappear behind or doors to slam, because this is IKEA. So it’s not really that dramatic when she just ends up back on the walkway, stalking off between rows of cabinets.

Jeonghan meets the guy’s eyes with a slight shrug, and the guy grimaces. Jeonghan kind of feels for him. He’s never really understood the value of cushions. At least the crisis has ended, and Jeonghan didn’t have to do any relationship counselling.

He pulls out his phone, opening up Twitter; he’d been live-tweeting the fight for the last ten minutes now. His eyes glance up to the beginning of the saga.

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _Clueless boyfriend doesn’t understand why tassels are put on cushions. Gf trying to explain._

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _Aish this girl is passionate about cushions. Is this a kink I don’t know about?_

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _He’s getting grumpy. A fight is brewing._

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _Oh god he’s insulting the cushions. Don’t do it, guy. DON’T DO IT._

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _HE DID IT_

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _He’s getting pelted with cushions._

Jeonghan grins at the first handful of replies and retweets he’s got. He doesn’t have time to read through them, not while he’s still on shift, but he quickly types out a conclusion.

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _Girl has left boyfriend in the dust. Next lover will probably be a cushion._

He thinks for a moment, then adds another one:

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _How many loves have been dashed on the rocks of cheap Swedish furniture?_

“Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan starts, whipping around as he hastily shoves his phone in his pocket. To his relief, it’s just Jisoo, leaning casually against a pillar.

“Greetings, gentle Jisoo,” Jeonghan replies, and Jisoo rolls his eyes.

“Are you live-tweeting again?”

“I have a void to fill,” Jeonghan shrugs. He’d been tweeting about his job for over a year. After the initial excitement of his job at the new IKEA in Seoul had worn off, he grew as jaded as any other retail employee and sought another form of entertainment. @IkeaAngel had really taken off in the last few months, particularly with the Tumblr crowd. That had been surprising seeing as Jeonghan had started tweeting purely for his own amusement, but with the weird things he witnesses on a daily basis he supposes it’s only fair that at least some people find it entertaining.

“Your shift’s almost over,” Jisoo says, his tone strangely upbeat for someone who personally still has about four hours to go until he is free, and he’s staring at Jeonghan expectantly.

Oh.

Oh, right.

Jeonghan lets out a sigh. “Stop looking at me like the helpful gay best friend in a rom com.”

“That is…exactly what I am,” Jisoo mutters. “So?”

“So nothing.”

“So not nothing, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan sighs. Jisoo is staring him down with this absolutely impassable look of patience. He’s got round eyes and this semi-hopeful expression that makes him look kind of innocent, which should be impossible considering the oceans of alcohol and occasional joint the two of them have consumed together over the course of their friendship. Not to mention the gay sex Jisoo was definitely having when Jeonghan left this morning, if the noises from their shower were anything to go by.

Damn Jisoo and his happy relationship and his interest in seeing Jeonghan join him in the ranks of romantic bliss. Damn Jisoo and his cheekbones and his hair and his pleasant expression as though when it came to Jeonghan he could wait for a thousand years as long as he finally got his way in the end.

“Fine,” Jeonghan concedes, but he crosses his arms against his chest in a futile attempt to demonstrate his displeasure. “Of course I’m going. Hansol set it up, I can’t disappoint him.”

“That’s it?” Jisoo replies dolefully. “You’re going on a blind date out of obligation? Be sure to use that as your opening line.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Do I look like the kind of person who’s going to be swept up in the whimsy of it all? _Oh, my love!”_ Jeonghan sighs dramatically, his voice raising an octave as he clutches his hands together. “ _I’ve waited a thousand years for this meeting!”_

Jisoo snorts, a smile flickering over his features. “You’re ridiculous. It’s a date, not a Goblin LARP.”

“You say that like they aren’t one and the same,” Jeonghan returns. “Don’t tell me you and Hansol haven’t role-played as- no, _don’t_ tell me,” Jeonghan adds hastily as Jisoo opens his mouth. “I heard enough of your private life this morning.”

“Ah,” Jisoo mutters sheepishly, and Jeonghan waves his hand dismissively.

“Whatever. Just remember to thank me when you’re rewarded tonight for my service to Hansol and his probably pathetic and lonely friend who probably can’t get a date except out of Hansol’s pity.”

Jisoo just blinks at Jeonghan, very slowly and deliberately, and Jeonghan can read it as though Jisoo is holding up a neon billboard. It is a blink that says, ‘if this guy is pathetic and lonely and seeking pity-dates, what does that make you?’ Which is unfair, really.

Jeonghan scowls at Jisoo. It is a scowl that says, ‘it makes me an excellent friend who is doing Hansol and therefore by proxy you a favour. I expect to be rewarded with chocolates. And money. And a helicopter.’

Jisoo shakes his head ever so slightly, and opts to end the conversation by walking away.

“Don’t bail,” Jisoo calls back over his shoulder. Jeonghan sticks his tongue out.

He might be cynical, and a bit of a drama queen, and yes he is definitely prone to cheating at board games, but the one thing Jeonghan can do is keep a promise.

*

The slam of the door behind Jeonghan is extremely satisfying as he storms into his apartment.

It’s about eight-thirty at night, and Jisoo and Hansol are cuddled up on the couch watching some American rom-com, it looks like. Great. Jeonghan loves those, and he sacrificed his evening for Hansol’s stupid friend, and now he is missing terrible dialogue and cheesy kissing in the rain scenes.

They’ve both looked up in apparent concern at Jeonghan’s entrance, and Hansol flicks the TV onto pause.

“You’re home early,” Jisoo greets Jeonghan, and Jeonghan dumps his coat on the hall table.

“Would you like to guess at why?” Jeonghan asks darkly, trying not to stomp into the living room. It’s hard to resist the temptation, but he manages, because he is an _adult_ god dammit. An adult, who actually upholds his commitments. Unlike _some_ people.

“How could you not have liked him?” Hansol asks in surprise, frowning at Jeonghan like he’s an unsolvable puzzle. “Coups is the best fucking guy on the planet, I swear to god.”

“I don’t know how great a guy he is if he thinks it’s fine to stand a complete stranger up,” Jeonghan sighs, and then adds bitterly, “And what kind of name is Coups?”

Hansol, to his credit, in propelled into a standing position by the force of his disbelief. “What? No, that’s not- He’s not that kind of guy, shit, something must be wrong. Hang on.”

He runs from the room, presumably to locate his phone, and Jisoo just holds an arm out. Jeonghan doesn’t need prodding. He slinks into Jisoo’s offered comfort, settling onto the couch and sinking into the pillows.

“Do you think he saw me and left?” Jeonghan asks, trying not to let his voice come out small. No one is allowed to make him feel small.

Jisoo shakes his head. “From what Hansol said, he seemed like a pretty genuine guy. Besides, you’re gorgeous. I’d do you.”

“Thanks,” Jeonghan sighs, leaning his head on Jisoo’s arm.

Hansol reappears, glaring at his phone as though he’d been personally offended by it. “He’s not picking up.”

“He’s probably feeling guilty,” Jisoo replies.

“I hope so,” Jeonghan mutters darkly, and Hansol plonks onto the couch beside him.

“I just- I hope he’s ok?” Hansol says tentatively, like he’s afraid of offending Jeonghan with his concern.

Jeonghan shrugs, and Jisoo reaches over to run his fingers through Hansol’s hair in a comforting geture.

“Can we watch the movie?” Jeonghan asks quietly. He can see Jisoo looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but chooses to ignore it.

He wouldn’t have admitted it, but there was something in him that was hoping, just hoping, that Hansol was right. That this guy was someone he could actually have something with. He's sick of unrequited crushes. He’s especially sick of one-night stands, the meaningless kisses and disconnected sex and walk of shame that follows every time. It’d be nice to find a guy who’d let him stay for breakfast, at the very least. He's sick of being nothing. 

He sighs, sinking in between his friends, and tries not to let the disappointment show on his features. But it’s a waste of energy. Jisoo has known him since he was five, and Hansol is startlingly perceptive. They enclose him in a cage of arms and legs and laughter, and Jeonghan lets the hurt slip away behind the couch cushions.

*

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _Do you think the angry spirits of Norsemen curse people in IKEA to die alone?_

Jeonghan hits tweet, and immediately regrets it. He shouldn’t be sending self-pity out into the universe. He’s better than that.

It’s already got favourites and re-tweets so he’d feel weird deleting it. Instead he adds another one.

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _At least I’ll always have the EKTORP._

There. Much better.

Jeonghan slips his phone into his pants and pulls on his fluoro shirt before leaving the employee change room. Another day, another shift, ten thousand chances to distract himself from last night with ridiculous Swedish furniture.

It’s quiet in the store, empty, as Jeonghan had come in an hour early. He has the keys and he enjoys the quiet, and management are fine with it if he pretends it’s to do stock counts or some other garbage. Not that he actually intends on doing anything until at least Wonwoo and Jun show up.

He picks a random showcase that looks comfortable and flings himself onto the bed.

The bed, to his shock, makes a noise. Like, a grunt. Followed by a pained moan. Followed by a husky, “hello?”

Jeonghan leaps off it in fright, not as gracefully as he might have hoped. Thankfully no one is around to see it. Except, possibly, a bed ghost.

“Hello?” Jeonghan replies cautiously, unsure of exactly who or what he might be addressing.

“Under here,” the voice says, and it seems to be coming from the rolling storage tucked away under the bed’s white pine frame. Jeonghan kneels down and rolls the long drawer out, and to his immense surprise, there is a man lying in the drawer.

“Ya, stop!” the person yelps, and Jeonghan realises the guy’s arm has been pulled at a weird angle, and it takes him maybe ten more seconds to notice that the arm in question appears to be secured to the side of the bed frame with several cable ties.

Another ten seconds, and Jeonghan realises he recognises the pine box prisoner right as the prisoner exclaims, “Jeonghan!”

“Seungcheol?” Jeonghan replies, as their eyes meet. A look of relief crosses Seungcheol’s face.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, as though this were their regular interaction in which Jeonghan orders an Americano and Seungcheol makes it for him. Which happens more or less every morning, as Seungcheol is the barista at the café opposite the IKEA entrance.

Seungcheol’s hair is ruffled and his eyes bleary, and he looks kind of like he’s been run over with a tank. Still good though. He always looks good. Jeonghan is very, very aware of this every morning when he walks into the café looking and feeling like something that crawled out of a well as he mumbles his order.

Mornings for Jeonghan are an endless stumble through fog until he has coffee. Meanwhile Seungcheol always greets him with a laid-back kind of happiness, like he’s excited to see what the day might bring. It’s infuriatingly endearing. He’s definitely Jeonghan’s favourite barista.

The fact that he consistently wears muscle tanks helps also. Apparently making coffee gives you the kind of arms that Jeonghan would absolutely enjoy being caged in by. Who knew.

“What- how?” Jeonghan stutters, and Seungcheol sighs, his head falling back down against the floor of the drawer.

“Please help,” Seungcheol pleads, pulling at his arm where it’s securely fastened to the bed. “I promise I can explain, but my wrist is so numb I’m convinced it’ll need to be amputated.”

“Hang on,” Jeonghan says, reaching into the little clip-on tool belt attached to his jeans, which he carries on the floor. He hastily produces a pair of scissors and sets at the cable ties, shooting Seungcheol a disbelieving look. “This is really not how I thought this morning would go.”

Seungcheol laughs bitterly. “You’re telling me. Wonwoo put me here last god damn night.”

Jeonghan pauses. He just can’t seem to stop staring. Maybe it’s because the café hadn’t been open when he arrived, so he hasn’t yet had the necessary amount of caffeine required to process what's happening. Maybe it’s because he’s had a (minor, totally not thought or time consuming or whatever) crush on Seungcheol since about three days after he walked into Seungcheol’s café, and now he’s wheeled him out from under a bed in his place of employment. One of those for sure.

“You’ve been here since- wait, Wonwoo, the quiet Wonwoo that works here, that Wonwoo?”

Seungcheol nods. “He and our other roommate Soonyoung and I are kind of trapped in this escalating prank war? I think it might be getting out of hand.”

“You think?” Jeonghan laughs. The scissors continue to meet resistance from the hard plastic as Jeonghan presses down with all his strength. Trust these cable ties to be the one well-made thing IKEA has ever produced.

Seungcheol sighs. “Wonwoo told me to meet him after work yesterday as he needed help with something, and then he ambushed me.”

“Wonwoo doesn’t seem big enough to overpower you,” Jeonghan comments, and Seungcheol nods.

“He’s not. But his dumbass boyfriend Mingyu is. I think this was like ninety percent him.” He frowns. “You seem to be taking a while with that cable tie.”

“It’s not cutting,” Jeonghan mutters, the scissors writhing ineffectively against the plastic.

“I thought IKEA only made junk?” Seungcheol replies, and Jeonghan shoots him a pointed look.

“Don’t insult my livelihood when I’m the only thing standing between you and death right now.”

“Death? Dramatic,” Seunghceol laughs. Jeonghan shrugs.

“Imagine if the store had opened and some children had found you.”

“I would say they already did and that’s how I got here,” Seungcheol sighs. “What now?”

Jeonghan thinks for a second, but only for a second, because the answer is incredibly obvious to him. This isn’t his first rodeo in poorly-made-pineville. Jeonghan shrugs. “I might have to dismantle the bed.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. Lying in his drawer with his shocked expression, it’s definitely one of the better mental images Jeonghan has chosen to store forever more. “You what now?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “If I disconnect the planks I can slide your wrist right off. Shouldn’t take too long.”

From his toolkit he produces an Allen key, and quickly assesses the bed, working out the least destructive way to break Seungcheol free. He begins to unscrew the first plank.

“So what did you do that earned you this level of retaliation?” Jeonghan asks, and Seungcheol hums, as though turning over several possible answers in his mind.

“My friend Jihoon and I put all of Wonwoo’s furniture on his lawn. Literally his entire bedroom, arranged in the exact same configuration.”

“Ah, a classic,” Jeonghan nods, and Seungcheol laughs. His eyes get kind of scrunchy when he smiles, and it makes his every expression seem incredibly genuine. Jeonghan really enjoys watching it.

“You know your way around a bed,” Seungcheol muses as Jeonghan moves quickly onto the next screw, and Jeonghan practically snorts. Seungcheol holds up his free hand defensively. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Jeonghan asks wryly, eyebrows arched. Seungcheol looks amused rather than embarrassed. Jeonghan shrugs. “I’ve been working here for… god, I forgot how long.”

“Two years,” Seungcheol says quickly, and for what seems like the fiftieth time that morning, Jeonghan blinks at him.

“Well yeah, how did you-"

“That’s when you started coming to get coffee from me,” Seungcheol replies matter-of-factly, as though if asked he could whip out such facts and figures about any of his customers. His expression as he watches Jeonghan is so devoid of any kind of artifice. It’s always like that, and it’s one of the things Jeonghan finds most fascinating about Seungcheol. He asks questions, lends advice, laughs at any joke that comes his way and tells his own with just as much enthusiasm. He’s the kind of person who seems so dedicated to just being _alive_.

For someone as dramatic, sarcastic, drowning in metaphors and bullshit as Jeonghan, it’s as refreshing as a rainstorm every time they talk.

“That’s- well yeah,” Jeonghan nods.

“I appreciate a loyal customer.”

“You have the best coffee,” Jeonghan replies. _And the best smile. The best dad jokes. The best arm muscles in Seoul probably. You sing really well while you’re making the coffee too. And I always laugh at your dumb made-up raps._

“You’re in early,” Seungcheol muses, and Jeonghan nods.

“I had kind of a shitty evening,” Jeonghan tells him, moving on to the next screw. “Thought I’d take my mind off it by entering the land of make-believe.”

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol says, as though somehow it’s his fault. He’s watching Jeonghan with a genuine kind of interest. “Make-believe helps?”

“It’s the lure of IKEA,” Jeonghan tells him, pausing in his work for a second to press his Allen key to Seungcheol’s head in an affectionate gesture. “I think it lets people fantasize about the kind of life they might have… you know, if they weren’t so desperately alone.”

“I’m sensing this might be personal,” Seungcheol tells him, and Jeonghan shrugs. He didn’t mean to get so honest with Seungcheol. Occasionally their chats in the mornings touch on real subjects, but mostly they skirt around such things with jokes and jibes. They’re friendly, but not intimate.

“This will sound deeply self-pitying, but it’s possible I’m just too difficult for an IKEA kind of future.”

Jeonghan goes back to working on the bed. That, he understands. Pine on pine, place the nail, hammer it in, attach a bracket. Every piece comes with instructions that don’t even need words, they’re so simple. If people were like that, Jeonghan might have had better luck. It’s not that he’s bad with others – it’s that they’re bad with him. They don’t get his humour. They don’t get his needs. Maybe he should write his next prospective date an instruction manual.

“You never seemed difficult to me,” Seungcheol says earnestly. “I mean, I feel like you probably cheat at monopoly, and you’ve definitely shoplifted in your youth, and I think maybe you like your hair more than is normal? But otherwise you seem, well, great.”

Jeonghan glances down at him, startled. Everything he’d just said was true. He wonders when Seungcheol had the time to form such thoughts about him.

“Plus, to be honest, watching you handle lumber is kinda doing it for me,” Seungcheol adds with a grin as Jeonghan yanks a plank out of position. He shifts slightly, stretching one arm in his limited space. Jeonghan’s eyes track the movement. “You’re surprisingly strong for someone so pretty.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m saving you,” Jeonghan replies with an eyeroll, even as his heart stutters in his chest. “But flattery will in fact get you everywhere.”

“I don’t know, maybe I just have a thing for men who can work with their hands,” Seungcheol says, and he seems to try for an alluring gaze for all of naught point five seconds before cracking up laughing.

Well, it’s early, it’s been a weird week, and Jeonghan has nothing in particular to lose. So if he wants to play that game…

Jeonghan pauses in what he’s doing, leaning over the drawer Seungcheol is lying in with a smooth and sudden motion that catches Seungcheol by surprise. His arms brace on the wooden planks on either side of Seungcheol’s chest.

“If you want to talk about kinks, let’s talk about you being basically handcuffed to this bed here,” Jeonghan murmurs, eyes narrowing as his gaze runs up and down Seungcheol’s body. He lowers himself slightly, their faces coming closer. “You’re completely at my mercy, aren’t you?”

He thinks he sees Seungcheol shiver, he definitely sees Seungcheol swallow, his tongue just pressing at his lips as though desperate to run over them. Seungcheol’s eyes flicker to where Jeonghan’s collar is falling open, and he almost seems to arc up slightly, as though his body is acting of its own accord, trying to meet with Jeonghan’s.

And then Jeonghan pushes himself back up into a sitting position, grinning benignly. “Anyway, nearly done.”

“You’re killing me,” Seungcheol groans, and Jeonghan blows him a kiss. “I see what you mean by difficult.”

But he's grinning as he says it, and Jeonghan just winks.

"Charming baristas in plywood prisons shouldn't throw stones," Jeonghan tells him.

"You think I'm charming?" Seungcheol smirks, fluttering his (surprisingly long) eyelashes. Jeonghan doesn't think he needs to answer that - he can tell he's blushing again.

“Last one,” he says instead. He leans over to move the last plank out of place, and that’s when Seungcheol’s free hand grabs his shirt and pulls Jeonghan back to face him.

“Wha- ” Jeonghan gets out, and Seungcheol’s eyes dart to Jeonghan’s lips. “Oh.”

“You're being mean,” Seungcheol murmurs, and he rises up. Jeonghan has just a second to admire Seungcheol’s core strength when Seungcheol’s lips brush his. Then Seungcheol hesitates, their eyes meeting as he seems to wait for permission.

Jeonghan is definitely, definitely in favour of saying yes. He smiles, meeting Seungcheol’s lips with his own. Gently, lightly, not giving in too much. He has the upper hand, he wants Seungcheol to rise to meet him, chase after him, to beg for it with his movements. Seungcheol’s free hand runs up Jeonghan’s neck into his hair, pulling slightly, and then he presses forward and-

There’s a slight yelp from Seungcheol as his locked arm twists at a painful angle. He’d gotten too caught up in the moment, straining to capture more of Jeonghan, and the plastic restraints had yanked him back.

Jeonghan begins to laugh as Seungcheol falls backwards into the drawer again, defeated.

“My prisoner,” Jeonghan grins, and Seungcheol pouts up at him. “You know, if you’d just waited three seconds…”

He shifts, clicking the last plank out of place, feeling incredibly self-satisfied. Seungcheol moves his hand, the cable tie finally able to slip off the bed.

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol practically moans, flopping out of the drawer and sprawling on the floor. He shakes the arm that has been keeping him imprisoned for nearly 12 hours now, blood rushing back into the limbs with a mixture of pain and pleasure written all over his face.

“Jeonghan,” he mutters, waving his hand with a grabbing motion. “My phone. Please. It’s in the wardrobe.”

Jeonghan gets up, and finds the device resting on a shoe rack in the bottom of the closet. No doubt ‘hidden’ there by Wonwoo and Mingyu.

The screen lights up as Jeonghan picks it up. “You have- you have 13 missed calls from Hansol? Hang on, Chwe Hansol?”

Seungcheol nods, looking embarrassed as he pushes himself upright. “I, uh- well this is awkward given what we just- I mean.” He clears his throat. “I was supposed to meet his boyfriend’s roommate last night. Blind date. This is number one on the list of reasons I am probably going to murder Wonwoo later today, that poor guy.” He pauses, looking interested. “You know Hansol?”

Jeonghan nods, a creeping sensation of incredulity running through his body. “He’s dating my roommate Jisoo,” he says slowly, and watches as that information hits its mark. Seungcheol’s face runs through about five different emotions in response, finally settling on pure disbelief.

Seungcheol blinks at him. “Hang on. You’re Hannie?”

“And you’re Coups,” Jeonghan says, his own eyes just as wide. “I thought you stood me up.”

“I really, really didn’t mean to,” Seungcheol says. He lets out a rush of air from his lungs, hand running through his messy hair as he winces. “Damn it, if I’d known it was you who was waiting for me I would have just picked up the bed and brought it with me.”

Jeonghan feels a slight blush tint his cheeks. “Really?”

Seungcheol grins. “Jeonghan, I've had a crush on you forever. You didn't notice? You think I flirt with all the people who order coffee from me? You think I make a habit of- this?” He waves his hand at the bed, recalling just moments before when he’d fought against the furniture to get more of Jeonghan.

“Maybe?” Jeonghan laughs, giddy, and Seungcheol rolls his eyes.

"You really need to give yourself more credit."

Right, so Jeonghan is going to have to buy Hansol chocolate. Maybe champagne. That kid has excellent taste and Jeonghan is going to trust him with all his big life decisions from now on.

“You’re not free tonight are you?” Seungcheol ventures, and Jeonghan nods.

“I am extremely free.” He offers Seungcheol a hand, pulling him to his feet. “My shift finishes at 5. But for the love of god, please stay away from Wonwoo before then.”

Seungcheol nods seriously, thoughtfully. “You’re going to have to help me get back at him.”

“Personally I think I should be thanking him,” Jeonghan muses, smiling down at Seungcheol. “Sending him flowers. A gift basket. I mean, he tied you to a bed for me.”

“Don’t you start,” Seungcheol replies, leaning forward with a lopsided grin. His gaze flicks downward again, asking once more, and Jeonghan kisses him.

*

 _@IkeaAngel_ : _Nvm. IKEA only a place of heartbreak for those undeserving of its magic._

_@IkeaAngel: For everyone else, trust in the IKEA gods, and they will show you mercy._

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> what am I doing with my life I didn't mean to become a carat I didn't mean to fall into jeongcheol and yet here i am (listen have you _seen_ one fine day in japan they are m a r r i e d)
> 
> tumblr is [ here](http://peachandpinwheel.tumblr.com) <3
> 
> forgive me father for jun isn't in this fic and tbh that's a sin


End file.
